” “Oh hey! How’s it going?”“Can you come see me?” she asked.“Well, yea, why?”“I’ll tell you when you get here.”“Okay.”I get ...o her house and she answers the door sobbing.“What’s wrong?” I asked.“I need money again”“Why, aren’t you working?”She began crying, “I was fired!”“Why?”“Well, it’s a long story and I don’t feel like telling all of it right now. I need money, though.”“How much?”“A lot.” she replied.“Ok, well, you know what you have to do, right?”“Yes, yes, fuck niggers, right?”“Right!”. 16, 1983 morning. She always told the story on each Nov. 16, and the girls could recite it word for word. Of course, each Jan. 1st she told everyone how she'd given birth to John. Come to think of it, he realized she'd be telling the tale for the thirtieth time in a little over a month.But his smile held more meaning than anyone knew. Just like everyone else present, John would give the paternal twins presents everyone could oooh and ah over, and then later, behind the givers back, say how they. More

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